


Angelic In Pink

by noladyme



Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noladyme/pseuds/noladyme
Summary: The road so far...Having left the life of a bartender for good, settling on the hunting lifestyle, Lulu has been travelling the country, working cases, and fighting monsters, alone; and together with fellow huntersLou - now known among the angels as The Witness, due to her ability to see angels within their vessels - stumbles into the Men of Letters bunker, wounded, and in need of care.When she is met by Dean, he is now the bearer of the Mark of Cain; and not the man she knew...Our story continues at the end of season 9.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character (Platonic)
Series: Skip To My Lou, My Darling [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007559
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

5 months earlier.

_I’m making my way back from the salt and burn north of Whitefish. Exhausted, I decide to stop at a bar. My aching muscles from the gravedigging might let up, if I have a drink, I tell myself – or, lie to myself. I really just want to drink my sorrows away._

_The bartender behind the counter is a handsome man, around Dean’s age. I haven’t heard from the hunter for about a week, and I’m getting frustrated by the lack of communication.  
“What can I get you?”, the tender asks with a smile. I look into his eyes, and think I recognize him.  
“I’m sorry… but have we met?”, I ask.  
He smiles.  
“I think I just have one of those faces”, he says.  
“Huh… Uhm, whiskey. Neat”, I say. He turns to grab a bottle. “Top shelf”, I add. “It’s been one of those days”.  
The bartender chuckles, and goes for the silver barrel; serving me a double.  
“The little extra is on the house”, he says.  
I thank him, and begin sipping from my drink._

_I check my phone to see if any calls have come in. There’s a text from Jody, chiding me for not checking in for over a week, and I text her back with a row of sad smileys and an apology.  
“Boyfriend?”, the bartender asks. It’s a slow night, so he has time to talk I realize. All part of the job, I know the deal.  
“No… surrogate mother”, I say. “The… _boyfriend _hasn’t checked in, in a few…”. I down my drink, and raise a brow at the wincing tender.  
“That sounds… not good”, he says empathetically.  
I shake my head.  
“He has some family business to take care of. Sick brother”.  
“Sorry to hear it”, the bartender says._

 _He begins to wipe the counter, and once again I search his eyes.  
“Are you _sure _we’ve never met?”, I say. “There’s something in your eyes… I can’t quite place it”.  
He gives me a crooked smile.  
“It’s probably just the bartender look. You have it yourself”, he chuckles. “How long have you been in the business?”.  
I laugh at his recognition of my former profession.  
“How’d you know?”.  
“Like you said. Something in your eyes”, he smiles. “How long?”.  
I shrug.  
“I quit, recently”, I say. “Before that… a couple of years”.  
“What do you do now?”, he asks; seemingly genuinely interested.  
“I’m a… researcher of old graveyards… and an in house sex-bunny to a guy I haven’t seen in weeks”. Apparently even just the one drink has me a bit buzzed. “Sorry. That was inappropriate”, I mutter.  
“I’ve heard worse. You know how it is”, he laughs. “Another drink?”._

 _I narrow my eyes.  
“You know what? Sure. Have one with me”.  
He looks down.  
“I… don’t drink”, he says.  
“Oh… sorry”, I croak.  
“It’s fine”, he smiles. “It’s just… A while back, I had a weird blackout, where I was out for days. I woke up in a hospital bed; with weird graffiti all around… Quit drinking after that”.  
“That sounds scary. I get why you quit”, I chuckle. “Make my next drink a seltzer, would you?”.  
“Sure thing”, he smiles, and open a bottle. “This one I _will _join in on”._

_He pours us each a glass, and we clink them together.  
“To bartending”, I smile.  
“Cheers”, the tender says, and we both sip from our drinks._

_30 minutes later, I leave the bar in a good mood, and – due to the bartender’s story – sober enough to continue my drive back to Rufus’ cabin._

\---

I almost fell down the stairs into the bunker, from sheer exhaustion and pain.  
“Dean?”, I croaked. “Sam…?”.  
I dropped my bag and stumbled into the empty library.  
“Anyone?”, I called out. The gash to my ribs was painful, but not as painful as the soaring aching of my right elbow – which I suspected was dislocated.  
It was early morning, and my drive in from Kearney, Nebraska had been close to impossible, due to my busted arm, and the damage to the Gremlin, from the fight I’d come from.  
“Goddammit! Wake up, and help me!”, I cried out.

I heard footsteps down the hallway, and Sam emerged in the doorway.  
“Lulu…”, he breathed. “Dean! Get out here!”.  
He ran over to me, and tried to put my arm around his shoulder.  
“Ow!”, I yelped out. “My elbow”.  
“I’m sorry… Here”.  
Sam picked me up, and carried me bridal style down the hallway to room 13 – kicking the door of 11 as we passed.  
Once in my room, he set me down on the bed, and I collapsed back on the pillow.  
“What did that ghost do to you?”, Sam breathed.  
“It wasn’t a ghost…”, I whimpered. “It was… a shifter… A strong one”.  
Sam helped me remove my jacket, and I cried out in pain. He lifted my t-shirt to look at my wound.  
“Dammit… Dean!”, Sam roared.

I heard a door open, and footsteps down the hallway.  
“I’m up! We just got in three hours ago. Is it too much to ask…”.  
Dean halted in the doorway. When he saw me, his face fell into anger.  
“What happened?”, he snarled; and stomped over to look at me. He picked up my arm, and turned it in his hand.  
“No… ow!”, I whimpered.  
Sam moved Dean’s hand from me.  
“I think it’s dislocated…”.

Dean sighed.  
“I told you this would happen if you worked alone”, he grunted. “Move”. He pushed Sam out of the way, and grabbed my arm again. “Hold her down”.  
“Dude!”, Sam frowned.  
“Just hold her”, Dean growled.  
Sam sprang to the other side of the bed. I looked at Dean with confused eyes; but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. On his right arm was a strange scar I hadn’t seen before. I looked back at Sam.  
“Just relax”, he said, trying for a comforting smile; and put his arm over me, to keep me from moving.  
“Dean…?”, I rasped; when suddenly he yanked my arm hard – making me scream out in pain, as my elbow popped back into place.  
“There. It’ll be fine”.  
I sobbed – falling back onto the pillow – and put my hand to my elbow. Dean looked at my gash.  
“That needs stitches”, he grunted; and began to walk out of the room. Sam halted him with a hand on his shoulder.  
“I’ll get it… Maybe… take care of her?”, he whispered. Dean sighed, and went to sit by me.

He met my eyes with a sour expression on his face. He looked tired; and his usual stubble was nearing a short beard.  
“You kill it?”, he asked. “The ghost…”.  
I nodded, tears still falling from my eyes.  
“It was a shifter. It’s gone…”.  
“What did you do to the body?”. I hadn’t thought about that. I wasn’t sure what to do with a shifter body.  
“I-i… didn’t…”, I began.  
Dean clenched his jaw.  
“Great… Kearney? I’ll go get rid of it”.  
I grabbed his arm.  
“No! I already called Tammy. She has some friends on it”, I whispered. Dean grunted, and rolled his eyes. “Dean…? Why are you being like this? I didn’t mean to…”.  
“You never do… But at the end of the day, someone else always has to clean up your messes”.  
It was like a punch to the gut.

Sam reentered the room; but when he saw my face, his own dropped. Dean went over to take the med-kit from his brother.  
“Dean, you should get out of here”, Sam said.  
“No, I’m stitching her up”, Dean sneered.  
Sam stepped up to his brother, making their difference in height very clear.  
“Get out. I’ll finish it”, Sam growled. “You’ve done enough”. Darkness ghosted Deans face. “I’ll knock your ass out”, his little brother vowed.  
Dean looked over his shoulder at me, and for a second his face softened; before he shook his head, and left the room.

Sam sat down on the bed, pulled out a pair of scissors, and began cutting into the fabric of my t-shirt.  
“I’m sorry about that”, he muttered. “He’s… not himself”.  
“No kidding”, I croaked. “What the hell?”. I couldn’t help but letting out another sob.  
Sam sighed and began cleaning my wound with alcohol, making me whimper in pain.  
“Sorry”, he grunted,  
“I didn’t mean to… disturb you guys”, I said. “I should have gone to a hospital”.  
“And told them, what?”, Sam smiled. “You come here any time you need to… ok?”.  
I nodded and dug my fingers into the blanket under me, as Sam pushed some of my torn skin together.  
“This looks like it was already beginning to heal”, he frowned. “When did it happen?”.  
“A few hours ago”, I breathed. “Guess I just heal fast”.  
“Huh…”, Sam grunted. “Still needs quite a few stitches”.

“You stitch up that scar on Dean’s arm as well?”, I half smiled. “Is that the kind of handywork I have to look forward to, once you’re done with me?”.  
Sam’s face fell.  
“That’s… not a scar”. He met my eyes tentatively. “Abaddon”, he muttered. “Dean thinks he’s found a way to kill her… But it’s messing with him”.  
“What is it?”, I breathed; almost afraid to hear the answer.  
Sam cleared his throat.  
“It’s the _Mark of Cain_ ”, he said.  
My heart dropped.  
“Please tell me you mean the wrestler”, I whispered.  
Sam smiled sadly.  
“No. Full on, old testament; Cain”, he said. “Dean made some sort of deal with him. Apparently, the mark makes him strong enough to take out Abaddon… As long as he used the knife that goes with it”.

I sighed.  
“Why does he always do this?”, I said. “Makes these idiotic decisions that put himself in danger… How are you two? Working together again, and all”, I asked.  
He looked to be pondering my question, as he continued sewing together my skin.  
“Healing… I think. It’s complicated. The guy shoved an angel up my ass…”.  
“Not literally”, I chuckled.  
“Might as well have. I still kind of feel violated. Then there’s this whole mark thing… He’s different”. He made an especially painful incision, and I winced. “Almost done”, Sam muttered.  
“He’ll come out of this whole… He has to”, I breathed.  
Sam finished the last incision, and squeezed my hand.  
“You’re right…”, he said. “He will”.

“You know, you still owe me a beer for that Rugaru…”, I muttered. Sam chuckled, and got to work on bandaging my wound.

\---

After a few hours of sleep, I made my way to the showers, and cleaned myself off. I grabbed a robe from the hangers on the door; and stepped into the kitchen in search for coffee.  
Dean was sitting quietly by the table, reading a paper.

“Hey…”, I whispered. He looked out the corner of his eyes at me.  
“’Morning”, he said. “How are you feeling?”.  
“Like someone violently replaced my elbow”, I said; using my left hand to pour myself some coffee.  
Dean sighed, and came over to help me; as my hand was shaking.  
“Yeah, it hurts. I know”, he grunted. He picked up my cup, and set it down on the table for me.

I sat down across from him.  
“How about; _Hey, Lou. I’m happy you’re alive, and I’m sorry I was a dick when you arrived_ …?”.  
Dean’s lips parted, and his eyes met mine for a second, before he looked down again.  
“You look like crap”, he said. “Stay here and heal up. Whichever room you want”.  
I frowned at him.  
“What did I do?”, I croaked. “Why are you treating me like a stranger?”.  
He shrugged.  
“You’ve been gone for months. You might as well be”.

I laughed sarcastically, and got up from my seat.  
“Ok. Good talk”. I began walking away, but Dean got up himself, and put his hand on my shoulder.  
“Lou… I’m… I didn’t say you couldn’t stay in _my_ room”, he said.  
“Yeah, from the way you’re acting right now; that’s seeming less and less like an option”, I muttered.  
Dean took a deep breath, and blew it back out.  
“I don’t know what you want me to say, sweetheart”, he shrugged. “I get why you came. To get stitched up, and taken care of. I just don’t know what you expected to find beyond that”.  
“Huh”, I scoffed. “Maybe I should go, then. Let you get back to work”.  
“You can’t”, he groaned. “You’re hurt”.  
“Yeah, I am”, I sneered; and walked down the hallway to my room.

Dean followed me inside.  
“Get out”, I said.  
“No”, he grunted.  
I picked out a pillow, and threw it at him.  
“I said, get out!”.  
His lips drew back into a snarl, and he strode over to me, pushing me down on the bed, and straddling me. I tried to push him off, but he was too strong, and my arm was in pain; along with the wound to my side. Dean’s face was locked in rage, as he leant over me, and held down my wrists.  
“You’re hurting me!”, I whimpered.  
His face dropped, and he instantly got off me.  
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Lou”, he gasped. “I didn’t mean to… Please”. He tried help me sit up, but I shrugged him off.

“What’s wrong with you?”, I croaked.  
“Nothing…”, he grunted.  
He began scratching at the scar on his arm.  
“That mark… It’s doing something to you”, I said.  
Dean’s eyes glazed over for a moment.  
“I found a way to kill Abaddon”, he said. “I made a choice. Someone had to… I’m just focused on finishing this thing, with that bitch. There’s nothing wrong with me”.  
“You’re completely different, Dean", I rasped. “Did you even check with your brother before you made that decision?”.  
“Not his call. He doesn’t get it. Ever since Zeke – Gadreel – things have been… hard”. Dean sighed. “He can’t see things straight ”.  
I wasn’t sure Sam was the one confused about right and wrong.

I went to stand up, but winced, and put my hand to my side. Pulling up my top, I noticed I’d bled through the bandage Sam had applied.  
“Crap, Lou… You tore your stitches”, Dean gasped.  
“No, _you_ did”, I grunted.  
“Yeah. I did”, he sighed. “Please let me help you”.  
I met his eyes, and nodded slightly.

The med kit was still in the room, and Dean checked my wound.  
“It’s only two of the stitches. I’ll fix it”, he muttered. I saw his hand shake as he held the needle.  
“You can call for Sam”, I said. “It’s ok”.  
He shook his head.  
“No. It’s ok. I’ll do it”, he grunted.  
“Your hand is shaking worse than mine when I haven’t had coffee for a few days”, I smirked.  
“I’ll be fine!”, Dean growled. I jolted slightly at his tone. “I didn’t mean to… I’m doing everything wrong here”.  
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.  
“It’s fine. Just do it”, I whispered. I laid down, and took a deep breath, letting Dean fix me up.

Once he finished, he rebandaged me; letting his fingers linger on my waist.  
“I have to finish this… Maybe after it’s done things will be different. I won’t be…”.  
“A dick?”, I smiled. He gave me a crooked smile. “Whatever this is, you’ll get through it… you always do”.  
“Maybe”, he whispered. “For what it’s worth, I _am_ happy you’re alive”.  
I sat up, and put my hand on his chin. I nudged his nose with my own, and put my lips to his; giving him a soft kiss. I felt like I needed to be close to him, to clear the tension between us.

Dean snaked his arm around my back, and held me flush to him; parting his lips to prod mine with his tongue. I opened my own, and granted him entry. He let out a soft groan, and leaned over me, to lay on top of me; his hands tugging at my top.  
I shifted underneath him, but when I went to lift my arms, my elbow soared with pain, and I yelped.  
“Dammit!”, Dean growled; and got off me. “Look, just… get some rest. Me and Sam have to go take care of something with Cass, anyway”.  
My breath hitched as he went to leave the room.  
“Dean…”, I called after him.  
“Stay… just stay here”, he said; and walked away – not looking at me as he left.

I felt oddly cold all over.

After the brothers left to meet Castiel – without a goodbye from Dean, but with a gentle hug from Sam – I looked over the many papers and books strewn about. I recognized some of the news stories in the articles printed – among them a massacre at a biker-club, and a slaughtered church youth group. I especially recognized a picture of a biker, who I’d met about a month before, in Wyoming; while I’d been working a poltergeist case. He’d watched me as I got out of a library; and I’d seen the angel within him.

I sighed deeply – hating myself for how I’d lied to the brothers.  
There’d been no shifter – and the ghost hadn’t laid a spectered finger on me. What there _had_ been, where angels. I closed my eyes, and remembered.

\---

_I was closing up a salt and burn in Kearney. It had been an easy hunt; though sad – as the child ghost had cried for its mommy while I burned its bones.  
As I was walking back to the Gremlin – my muscles aching from the digging – the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I got goosebumps. I pulled my blade, and turned around; standing face to face with a man in a suit._

_“Witness”, he said. “It is time for you to give back what is not yours”.  
My breath hitched.  
“You will not lay a hand on her, brother!”, a female voice said. I turned my head, and saw a blonde woman approaching, the angel within her clearly visible with my – Castiel’s – celestial sight. “She is not for you to take. She is Metatron’s”.  
The man snarled.  
“She holds the grace of the true leader! He will have it back”.  
I slowly approached him.  
“You are with Castiel?”, I croaked. “Then I’ll come”.  
He smiled softly.  
“You will not need to. I’m going to extract the grace you stole right now”.  
I frowned in confusion.  
“I didn’t steal anything. It was put in me, against my will”, I said. “He’s free to have it back”.  
“He will kill you. It’s the only way to extract it”, the female angel said. “Come with me now. I can take you somewhere safe”._

_I began walking towards my car.  
“I’m not going with any of you…”, I said.  
“Witness! Do not walk away from me!”, the woman growled. Suddenly she was next to me, and grabbed my arm. I tried to tear myself away, but she was too strong.  
“Let me go!”, I yelled. The woman sneered at me, and threw me to the ground, making me land hard on my arm in the process. I felt my elbow pop out of place._

_The male angel sprang forward, and waved his arm; making me fly through the air, and hit the fence of the graveyard. I landed on a spike, and felt it cut into my side.  
I yelped in pain, and tried to get off the ground, while the angels attacked each other. In a whirlwind of light and wind, the two creatures slashed at each other; each at some point getting the upper hand._

_I crawled across the ground, holding my hand to my bleeding side. The ground was shaking, and each time I tried to stand, I was thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the angels fighting.  
Suddenly, the male angel threw the female to the ground; making the Gremlin jump from the ground, and land a few feet away from where it had been standing. Two of the windows busted, as he ran his blade through her; and light streamed from her mouth and eyes._

_“Stop!”, a voice I recognized cried out. “Afriel, stand down!”.  
The male angel looked up at the angel approaching.  
“Metatron… Traitor!”.  
Metatron shook his head.  
“No, that would be _your _leader. Castiel”._

_I was panting heavily from pain, as I watched Metatron walk over to Afriel. He raised his hand, and put it on Afriel’s head; and just as it had with the woman, light came from his mouth and eyes. He fell to the ground.  
“What did you do?”, I croaked.  
“I… smote him”, Metatron smiled. “You’re welcome”.  
I crawled backwards.  
“Don’t… I’m not coming with you!”, I cried out.  
“Dear girl… You’re hurt. I can fix you”, the angel said.  
“Don’t touch me!”._

_Metatron sighed.  
“I’ve been watching you these last months”.  
“How? I’m warded…”, I rasped.  
He chuckled.  
“I’m the original scribe of God. I can read anything; making me very able to see beyond those silly scribblings on your bones”.  
Finally getting on my feet, I tried to make a run for it, but the unbelievable pain in my body made it impossible to move fast enough. Metatron was next to me in an instant.  
“Please just leave me alone. I never asked for this… I don’t want to be a witness”, I croaked.  
“That translation is a little off, honestly. The word was closer to what you’d understand as a keeper, than a witness. That was just a fun side-effect”, Metatron smiled. “But you _have _been a witness_. _You’ve seen what has happened in the world since the fall. Heck, these two idiots just waged war, just to get to little old you”.  
“Why?”, I asked.  
“Because of what’s in here. You are the _keeper _of Castiel’s grace”, Metatron said, and pointed at my chest. “Castiel wants it back. He’d even kill you for it”._

 _I shook my head.  
“He’s my friend. He wouldn’t…”.  
“_He’s my friend… _”, Metatron mocked. “He’s not. He’s a cold-hearted killer, who doesn’t give a… crabapple about you”. The angel narrowed his eyes, and grinned. “Now, you have a choice. You’ve been able to recognize angels. That little smidgeon of grace Castiel wanted you to keep for him… you can keep it”.  
My heart began beating fiercely.  
“I don’t want to. I’ll give it back”, I said.  
Metatron frowned.  
“That’s not what I wanted to hear. See, that power within you… I can make it grow – make you one of us!”. He grabbed my hand. “Stand with me! You’ll be as powerful as Castiel was, even more powerful. We can make miracles happen. Side by side… You are carrying the grace of the angel that made all others fall!”._

 _I made myself fall to the ground, and discretely began drawing the angel repellent sigil on the pavement.  
“That’s not going to send me away, you know… I’m the scribe who _created _that sigil”.  
In my head, I began praying fiercely.  
_Please, Cass… Sam told me you’re back. You have to be able to hear me. I’m at a graveyard in Kearney. Help me.  
_“Are you praying now?”, Metatron chuckled. “It’s not going to help. He’s not listening!”.  
I sighed heavily.  
“Then what will make you go away?”.  
Metatron crouched next to me.  
“I told you back when we met the first time. Make the right decision. Join me, or die”._

_I looked down on the ground, at the sigil I’d drawn there – running my fingers over it, using my blood to make it something else.  
“I’m not good with either of those”, I rasped. “I can’t repel you… But I can depower you”. I slammed my hand down on the ground, on the new sigil I’d drawn. Metatron winced, and tried to grab for me, but with my good arm, I pulled at his leg – making him fall to the ground.  
“What did you do?”, he yelled.  
“I’m sure you’ll be fine soon”, I said, and used my last strength to run for the car; getting behind the wheel, and speeding away._

_\---_

I opened my eyes again. Castiel hadn’t come when I called, but I knew – at least I told myself I knew – that he would never hurt me.  
The swelling on my elbow was less than I’d expected it would have been, after the damage it must have taken, and even the gash in my side was healing up faster than I’d imagined. It had scabbed over within hours after Dean had fixed it back up. I suspected Castiel’s grace had something to do with that, as I’d hardly even had a headache since Metatron put it in me.  
My physical wellness didn’t extend to my mental one, though. I was still fretting, and jumping at every sound; expecting to see another angel around every corner, even if I knew they wouldn’t be able to find me. Even Metatron couldn’t find me in the bunker. Other than the fact that it was the only place I’d really ever been happy – and that I’d be with Dean – that was the reason I’d come there.

After a few more moments of self-pity, I made my way back down the hall. Opening the door to Kevin’s old room, I smiled to myself, remembering the sweet kid. Sam had told me what had happened to him; the guilt on his face painful to watch as he’d spoken.  
Moving further down the hall, I paused for a second by room 11, considering crawling in to Dean’s bed; but for some reason, it didn’t feel right. In fact, _everything_ about the bunker felt wrong. The home I’d thought I’d built here; felt like a fairytale I’d woken abruptly from.

I crawled into bed in room 13, and tried to get some more sleep. In the afternoon, Sam called me up.  
“ _How are you feeling?_ ”, he asked.  
“I’m… in pain”, I admitted. “Mind if I break in to your painkillers?”.  
“ _Have at it_ ”, he responded. “ _Avoid the roofies, though_ ”.  
“Why do you guys have roofies?”, I asked.  
“ _Long story involving a pishtaco_ ”, Sam chuckled.  
“A fish taco?”, I grunted.  
“ _No, a… never mind. I’ll tell you when we get back”_.  
I cleared my throat.  
“Are you with Cass?”, I asked.  
“ _Yeah_ ”, Sam said. “ _It’s a real angel-war underground bunker here_ ”.  
“That’s… nice”, I muttered. “And he’s… good? Himself, and not acting weird?”.  
“ _He’s Cass as you know him. Just has a fan club now”._  
I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d met one of his fans the night before.  
“Oh… That sounds… culty”.  
“ _You have no idea_ ”, Sam said quietly. “ _We have to go talk to someone, who might have some info on Metatron. Text me if you need anything_ ”.  
“Sure…”. After goodbyes, we hung up.

Cass seemed normal. The keyword being _seemed_. I didn’t know where to go with my questions. In theory, I wasn’t even safe in the bunker, if Cass really was out to get his grace back. I needed to figure out if I actually needed to be dead for him to get it, and the only one that would be able to tell me, would be another angel.  
So far, I knew only three of those. Castiel, Metatron; and Ezekiel – or _Gadreel_ , as he’d turned out to be. The angel that had killed Kevin.  
As it was, none of the three seemed like a good option.

I settled in to clean my weapons, and peer over my notes. Bobby had never written anything about angel grace; I only had what I’d written myself, which wasn’t much, as I’d only been able to record what was happening in my own body. I began writing.  
“ _Dislocated elbow, and gash on my left side. Healing much faster than expected. I’ll look for answers in the Men of Letters’ files; and, maybe, ask Castiel about it when I see him.  
I need to ask Sam about the crossbow I saw hanging on the wall in the armory. If the guys aren’t going to use it, I’d be happy to”._

As a last-ditch effort, I looked up _grace_ in Charlie’s computer registry; and stumbled across something.  
“ _James Haggerty. One of two original residents in the Men of Letters’ bunker. This dude was misogynist as all frack, but a genius all the same. He kept records on Oz, angels, and all sorts of cool stuff. Dorothy tells me he had a weird mustache_ ”.  
_Thank you Charlie!_ , I smiled to myself. At least it was somewhere to start.  
I sprang over to a filing cabinet marked _H_ , and searched out James Haggerty.

His file was thick, and would take me ages to get through; so I made a large pot of coffee, and began riffling through the notes.  
There were records of Haggerty’s beginnings as a librarian, and his ventures into the paranormal in his early thirties; ending up with his being initiated at the age of 38. He’d transcribed interviews with another man of letters – L. Frank Baum, of all people, making me send warm thoughts to my favorite ginger, who was traipsing the Yellow Brick Road at the moment – and studied the former vessels of angels.

The writing was old fashioned, and – save for the writings about Oz – extremely boring. Rubbing my eyes, my elbow jolted in pain, and I knocked some of the papers to the floor. I picked up the files, and came across a picture of a syringe. _Grace Extractor_ was written in a swirly hand.  
My jaw dropped as I read.  
“ _As an angel leaves it vessel, a remnant of its grace will stay within a human. This grace may be used for different spells, or even to track an angel. Draining the grace for the vessel is almost always deadly; but with the extractor, created by yours truly, it may be done safely – if not painfully”.  
_I recognized Sam’s handwriting on a note attached to the file.  
“ _Used in 2014, by Sam Winchester, to extract the grace of the angel, Gadreel. Extraction successful, spell a failure_ ”.  
My hands began shaking. I might be able to extract Castiel’s grace, and give it back to him. I had to speak to Sam.

\---

I didn’t hear from any of the brothers again until well past midnight.  
They stumbled into the bunker, both with hard expressions. Dean looked even more dark than when they’d left.  
I almost ran over to meet them at the stairs.  
“Sam…”, I began.  
“Sorry, it’s not a good time”, Sam muttered; looking at his brother as he walked by the both of us. Dean let his fingertips stroke against my hip as he passed; and gave me a look out the corner of his eye.  
I recognized the look – I’d met it many times while working as a bartender, whenever some patron was enjoying how snugly my top fit my frame.  
This was a completely different Dean, than the standoffish man who’d left the bunker, many hours earlier – though he seemed no warmer.

“Dean. We need to talk about this”, Sam declared.  
“We talked”, Dean grunted. “It’s done. The bitch is dead”.  
“Abaddon?”, I croaked. “She’s gone?”.  
Sam nodded.  
“Dean decided to take it on himself to get rid of the Knight of Hell… alone”.  
“You wouldn’t have been able to help anyway, Sam. Get over it”, Dean grunted.

I followed the brothers up into the library, where Dean laid down a strange looking old knife on the table. His hand shook as he released it from his grip.  
“What’s that?”, I asked.  
“That’s _the first blade_ ”, Sam said. “And it shouldn’t be here”.  
“Enough, Sam!”, Dean roared. “It stays with me. Where it belongs”.  
“Ok, Gollum”, I muttered. Dean sent me a look I couldn’t define as whether being angry or amused.

“She’s dead. You don’t need it anymore.”, Sam sighed.  
“I need it for other things. It’s more powerful than any weapon I’ve ever held”, Dean said.  
Sam raised his brows, and nodded.  
“That’s right. And it’s changing you, every time you use it”. My lips parted, as I looked at him warily. “It’s dangerous!”.  
“I’ll keep you safe, Sammy”, Dean chuckled. Sam made to say something in return, but Dean interrupted him. “Leave it! Just… go to bed. You look like you haven’t slept in days”.  
Sam scoffed.  
“You haven’t had any more sleep than me. You should rest”.  
“I’m fine”, Dean declared. He tried for a smile. “Really. Let’s talk tomorrow, ok?”.  
Sam frowned and sighed, before leaving the library.

I stepped over to join Dean at the table. The grizzly looking blade made bile rise in my throat.  
“It’s the jaw of a donkey. The bone Cain used to kill Abel”, Dean muttered. His fingers rested over the hilt. “It looks bad, I know. But it gets the job done”.  
I had to take a step back; as my heart was beating almost painfully from my sheer proximity to the weapon. Dean looked at me questioningly.  
“You ok?”, he asked, his voice brusque.  
“It’s… I don’t like it”, I choked.

With a final almost loving look at the blade, Dean covered it with a piece of cloth, and slipped it into his bag. He threw the bag over his shoulder.  
“Let’s go to bed”, he said, and put his hand on my back to lead me down the hall.  
“I… can’t sleep near that thing”, I rasped.  
Dean raised a brow at me, and smirked.  
“Who said anything about sleeping?”, he said.  
I let out a deep breath.  
“Dean… please”, I begged, almost pitifully. He groaned, and put his bag on the table again.  
“Fine”, he muttered. I began walking towards the doorway, as Dean closed the zipper of the bag.

We walked down the hallway, and when we arrived outside his room, Dean grabbed my arm.  
“Come inside”, he said, more as a demand, than a plea. “You’re not in too much pain, right?”.  
I furrowed my brows.  
“Not too much, no”.  
“Good”, Dean smiled. “I need to blow off some steam… if you’re good with that, of course”.  
I couldn’t help but feel a rush of blood to my core at his directness.  
“It’s been a while…”, I smiled.

Dean narrowed his eyes, and grinned; then pulled me flush against him – planting his greedy lips on mine. I had to push him off after a few moments.  
“I need to breathe”, I chuckled. “What’s going on with you?”.  
Dean opened the door to his room, and almost pushed me inside.  
“Can’t I just want you?”, he grunted. He walked slowly towards me, almost on the prowl. My breath hitched, as he made his way to me, and snaked his arm around me; pressing his groin to me.

I lifted my chin, and Dean licked his lips – looking almost hungry – as he pressed them to my mouth again.  
“I want you naked – on that bed – before the count of ten”, he muttered against my lips; sending shivers through my body with just the tone of his voice.  
“Or…?”, I challenged.  
“Don’t test me, sugar”, he growled; a clear warning in his eyes. “One… two… three”.

I pulled off my tank-top and jeans, and threw them over the chair by the desk.  
“Four… five… six…”. He shrugged off his jacket, and hung it over the chair with my own clothes.  
My shaking hands where struggling with my bra.  
“Little help here?”, I groaned. “My elbow…”.  
“Nope… Seven… eight…”.  
I finally shrugged off the bra; and went for my panties, while simultaneously trying to run for the bed.  
“Nine… ten…”. I had my panties hanging from my ankles, standing in front of the bed. “You didn’t make it, sweetheart”, Dean smirked.  
“So what happens now?”, I gulped.

Dean walked over to me slowly, and crouched in front of me; lifting my feet one at a time, to get them out of my panties. He stood himself back up, brushing his nose against my skin all the way – pausing for a second in front of the apex of my thighs.  
Once he was once again towering over me, his expression became brusque.  
“Pop quiz”, he smiled.  
“Dean…”, I groaned. “Now?”.  
“Just wanna make sure you’re up to speed”, he smirked; pecked at my lips, and went behind me to sit on the bed.  
“I’m naked”, I frowned. “And I missed you”. I went to straddle him; but he caught my hips, keeping me standing.  
“Naked pop quiz. It’s happening”, he declared. “Oh, and…”. He patted his thighs. I went to straddle him again, but he shook his head, and turned my hips, so I was seated on his lap, with my side to him.

“There we go”, he smirked. “Let’s start easy. Shifter”.  
“Silver”, I sighed.  
“Good”. He put his arm around my waist, resting his hand on my hip. “Vampire”.  
“Decapitation and dead man’s blood”. His other hand went to my thigh, and he began stroking his fingers over my skin.  
“I’m being too easy on you”, he smirked. “Wendigo…”.  
“Iron, steel, silver, or fire… If you don’t have any of those; run like hell”.  
He pinched my hip. I almost hissed at the sweet pain.  
“Smartass”, he grunted. “Banshee”.  
“Gold”, I grunted.  
Dean let his fingers travel between my legs, stroking at the skin, still well away from my warmth. He kissed my shoulder.  
“Siren?”, he breathed, his warm breath against my shoulder making me gasp.  
“Bronze dagger”, I whispered. “Covered in the blood of its victim”.

“If this is too hard, we can stop…”, he smirked. I frowned at him; and he let the hand he had on my hip move upwards, to cup my breast. “Ok… Djinn”.  
“Silver… dipped in lamb’s blood”, I croaked.  
The tip of Deans index finger traced circles in my pubic hair; and I began writhing against his lap; desperate for friction.  
“Kitsune?”, he asked. His finger found my nipple, and flicked at it.  
“Oh… Stab it in the heart?”, I said.  
“Is that a question?”, Dean frowned.  
“No…”, I whispered.

He tweezed my nipple between his thumb and index finger.  
“Good girl”, he said. “Zombie”.  
“Headshot”, I rasped. Deans fingers between my legs began tracing my labia. “Dean, please…”.  
He began rubbing circles on my clit.  
“Rugaru?”.  
“Fire… please…”.

Dean slid his middle and ring finger between my folds, and into me. He held his hand still there, and began massaging my breast.  
“Did I pass?”, I rasped.  
“Almost there…”, Dean smirked. “Last one. Fairies”.  
I frowned at him.  
“Seriously?”, I asked. “Come on, you’re kidding me. Those aren’t real!”.  
“Those little bitches are real. Trust me. Now answer”. He began withdrawing his fingers from me; but I grabbed his wrist, and held it – clenching my thighs together.  
“Please…”.  
“Just try”, he demanded.  
I thought furiously.  
“Fairies… magic, right?”. He nodded. “Iron? And… glitter?”.  
Dean put his lips to my ear.  
“Close enough”, he whispered; his warm breath making me gasp.

He slid his fingers back into me, and began scissoring them against my sensitive spot there; while his palm moved against my clit.  
“I wanna try something”, he whispered. “Don’t move”.  
The hand he’d used to massage my breast, went to my belly, and he held me hard against him.  
Suddenly he began moving his hand up and down quickly, and hard – almost instantly making my walls quiver.  
My eyes locked on the scar on his arm. That strange symbol, which seemed to have changed Dean into someone I didn’t quite recognize.  
An intense tickling sensation began in my warmth, that soon turned into a pulsating feeling – as if my vagina had its own heartbeat. I threw my arms around his neck, and held on for dear life, as my climax approached.

Suddenly, the pulsating sensation became throbbing instead. I felt the muscles in my lower abdomen and my thighs tense up. Dean continued his harsh attack on my vagina, and before long, my walls clenched together hard, around his fingers. My orgasm was intense – almost burning – and I felt something inside myself about to release.  
I grabbed Dean’s wrist.  
“No…!”, I whimpered. “I’ll…”.  
Dean didn’t relent. He held me hard against him, so I couldn’t move an inch; and moved the leg he had under my knees, over my one leg – forcing my thighs apart.  
“Don’t”, he groaned. “Let it happen”.

My muscles tightened in almost painful pleasure. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted to scream – and I did, when with a series of final hard thrusts of his hand, my orgasm climaxed; and gushed out of me.

I collapsed against Dean, and he withdrew his fingers; wiping my fluids off on his jeans. “Good girl”, he whispered, and stood up; lifting me from his lap, and laying me down on the bed. I curled up – my body still convulsing – and Dean covered me with the sheet; then quickly undressed, and laid down next to me. He kissed my forehead. “You did so good”.  
I covered my face.  
“Don’t…”, I whispered.  
He chuckled and stroked my hair.  
“Are you embarrassed? Baby, that was perfect!”, he chuckled. “And we’re doing it again”. My breath hitched, and I looked at him in panic. “Not now. Some other time… You need to come down”.  
I swallowed hard.  
“I never did that before…”, I croaked. He kissed my lips as softly as his current hard demeanor allowed.  
“Did it hurt?”.  
“Not… in a bad way”, I whispered.  
“And did you like it?”, he smiled. I nodded. “Good. Stop worrying about it. You liked it, I liked it. It is what it is… It’s my turn. Roll over”.

I went to lay on my belly, and Dean traced his fingers over the bandage on my side. He lifted it slightly, to check the stitches where still ok; then reapplied it.  
He kissed both my shoulder-blades, then crawled on top of me; and slid himself into me. Giving me but a second to adjust, Dean began thrusting forcefully into me. He wasn’t moving fast, but he went deep. I had no way to move my legs, or get out from under him – Dean was using his full weight to wield his dominance.  
As I turned my head and shoulders to meet his face; he took a hold of my hair, and pressed my head down into the pillow – turned, so I could breathe.  
“Dean…”, I gasped.  
“Something wrong?”, he breathed, and pushed into me hard.  
“No… Kiss me?”, I pleaded.

For a second, Deans gaze softened, and he stopped moving.  
“Am I hurting you?”, he asked.  
I shook my head as much as I could, as he was still holding it down.  
“No. I just need you to kiss me. Please?”.  
He searched my eyes, as if not clearly understanding what I was asking.  
“Why?”, he said. I almost gasped at his question.  
“Because… It’s what you do… You kiss me, to show me we’re doing this _together_ , and you’re not just… you know?”.

Deans face dropped.  
“Of course… yeah. I’m sorry”. He lifted his torso, and let go of my head, so I could turn halfway around. He pressed his lips to mine, as gently as he could, and I stroked his cheek. “I thought you like it when I was a bit rough”, he whispered, almost inaudibly.  
“I do… But I need to know you’re not just taking something out on me”, I muttered.  
He sighed.  
“Yeah. You’re right … I’ll be more gentle”.  
“You don’t have to”, I smiled. “I like this. Just don’t… disappear on me”.  
He nodded. When he began moving again, I was laying on my side; and could look into his eyes. He was trying to restrain himself; a deep crease in his forehead.  
“It’s ok”, I said, and laid back on my chest. Dean grabbed my hand, and let our fingers intertwine.

He began pushing into me hard again, adding speed to his movements. With his free hand, he searched under my body, and found my bundle of nerves, rubbing at it in circling movements. Soon I was nearing another climax, and Dean’s breath was becoming erratic. He was groaning wantonly.  
My walls tightened around him, as I came; and I turned my face to cry out into the pillow. He wanted me tight around him, so he could reach his own end.  
Dean thrusted hard and fast a few more times, before he twitched inside me, and let himself come.

He pulled out of me, and rolled to his back on the side of me where I couldn’t see him – our hands still linked. He let out a deep breath.  
“Thanks… for that”, he muttered. “I’ll get something for you to clean up”.  
I felt the mattress dip and then give, as he stood up, and let go of my hand.

I laid in the bed alone for a few minutes; feeling extremely cold. What had just happened had been both amazing, hot and strangely wrong – all at the same time.  
I knew I wanted it to happen again; but I didn’t want to feel as I did in that moment – used and unimportant.  
Something was wrong with the man I loved, and I was sure it had something to do with that mark he carried on his arm. He’d been cold and distant since the moment I’d arrived; and now – after finally having killed the object of his mission, using that horrible knife – he suddenly wanted to be intimate.  
He’d had sex with me – if you could call it that. It was more as if he’d had sex, and I’d been there for him to do it.  
Even when it was dirty and verging on nasty, we’d always had an undertone of love in our sessions together. Hell, during other encounters, Dean had gone way past the roughness he’d shown me this time; but I’d never felt _used_ before – not even for a second.

When Dean returned with a damp towel, he threw it on the bed, and slid on his boxers, as I cleaned myself off.  
“You should get some sleep”, he muttered. “You staying in here?”.  
I grimaced in confusion.  
“I… guess I could go. If you want me to”.  
He shook his head.  
“No, it’s fine. You can stay. I have some stuff to work on anyway”. He put on a robe, and left the room – and me.

I couldn’t stay in Dean’s bed a minute longer, so got up, and quickly dressed. I moved Dean’s jacket, throwing it on the bed, to grab my jeans and tank-top. I put on both items, and went to put the jacket back over the chair; when I noticed something in the inner pocket Dean had made for weapons.  
I gingerly slipped my hand inside it, and with a shaking hand, I withdrew the blade. _The First Blade_.  
It had been in the room the whole time, even after I’d pleaded for Dean to not bring it.

I was standing mouth agape, holding up the horrible thing; finding it difficult to move, even as it felt like it was sending electric jolts through my hand.  
“Put that down”, Dean said from the doorway. I instantly dropped it to the floor, and balled my hands up into fists. Dean quickly retrieved the blade from where it lay, and held it down his side, while looking at me with cold eyes. “You shouldn’t touch it”.  
“I wouldn’t want to mess with the _precious_ ”, I snarled. “You had it in here the whole time”.  
He shrugged.  
“I feel better when it’s close”.  
“But I don’t!”, I hissed. “I told you… Why do you even still have it? Abaddon is dead”.  
“Yeah. You’re welcome”, he grunted. “And now I’m gonna use it to kill Metatron. You’re welcome for that as well”.

I pushed by him, and went to my own room; locking the door behind me. I heard Dean walk down the hallway, and saw his shadow in the grate at the bottom of the door. He paused for a moment, before continuing on.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road so far...
> 
> After healing somewhat from her wounds - probably due to Castiels grace living in her - Lulu is introduced to The First Blade; instantly feeling something is wrong with the weapon.  
> After an intense session with Dean leaves her feeling used and unwanted, she seeks out Sam for help on removing Castiel's grace. Maybe after that, she can focus on helping the man she loves.

In the morning, I hadn’t slept for even a minute. I packed my things, and snuck down the halls to Sam’s room, moving quietly by Dean’s so I wouldn’t have to see him.

Whatever was going on with him, I needed to figure this thing out with Cass' grace. I suspected that even as it was healing me, it was also reacting to the intense discomfort I felt at being in the bunker, and around the blade; which didn’t make me level-headed enough to deal with whatever was going on with Dean.  
And something told me, he needed help.

Sam was still in his clothes from the night before when he opened his door after I knocked; but he did look like he’d gotten at least _some_ sleep.  
“Hey… what’s up?”, he yawned.  
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”, I said quietly.  
“Should I call for Dean?”.  
I shook my head fervently.  
“I don’t want him hearing what I’m gonna say”, I whispered. Sam frowned, but put his hand on my back, and led me inside, closing the door behind us.

“What’s up?”, he asked, as I sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat himself on the chair by the desk, and put his long legs on the bed beside me.  
“I told you about what happened with Metatron, back when I met him the first time”, I said.  
Sam’s eyes widened.  
“Wait, you’ve seen him again?”, he gasped.  
“No… Yes. It’s a long story”, I said.  
“Where is he?”, Sam asked.  
“I don’t know. I ran away”, I said.  
Sam set his feet on the floor.  
“How?”.  
I frowned deeply.  
“Can I please just tell you what I need to?”.  
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Go on”, Sam sighed, and rested his elbows on his knees.

I took a deep breath, and blew it out.  
“Back when he made me the… witness, he wasn’t actually the one who chose me”, I said. “Castiel was”.  
I looked at Sam tentatively.  
“Cass chose you? What do you mean?”, he asked.  
“When Metatron stole Cass’ grace to close up heaven, some of that grace – according to the prophecy, or whatever – had to be stored in a human of his choice. He chose me, for some reason”.  
Sam’s eyes narrowed.  
“You’re… carrying Castiel’s grace”.  
“Only a little bit", I muttered.  
Sam scratched his head.  
“Wow. That’s why you’re healing so fast; and why you recognize angels… Like the one we met on that rugaru hunt…”. I nodded in remembrance.

\---

 _We were sneaking down a long hallway in an abandoned building, that smelled metallically like blood – Sam with silver bullets in his gun, and me with my lighter and a spraycan of cheap deodorant.  
“You’re _so _buying the beers”, I whispered with a gleeful smile.  
“Keep dreaming, toots”, he grinned. I halted, and frowned at him. He winced. “Yeah, I’m never using that word again”.  
“Promise?”, I chuckled silently._

_A loud crash made us both jolt; and we sprang for a corner; Sam shielding me.  
“Move, I can’t see!”, I hissed. I pushed myself under his arm, and peaked around the corner. A snarling figure with long nails was circling a young woman; laying on the floor with what seemed to be both legs broken. The monster sniffed the air, and looked in our direction.  
“Wolf”, Sam whispered.  
“Nope”, I smiled. I stepped out into the open, and lit the zippo. Sam came out behind me, and saw the face of the creature.  
“Dammit. You win”, he grunted. “Get it, I got your back”._

_I ran forwards, and pressed the button on the cannister, setting fire to the foul-smelling deodorant. The rugaru ran towards me, but not before Sam sprang between us, and pushed it to the floor.  
“Do it!”, he yelled; and I sprayed the fire against the monster’s face, setting it aflame. Sam covered his face, and rolled away, towards the woman, to shield her with his body.  
The rugaru burnt up quickly, and slumped together on the floor in front of me – dead.  
“Rugaru cherry popped!”, I grinned. Sam laughed, and shook his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dean you where here to pop it with me”.  
Sam frowned, still uncomfortable talking about his brother._

_He turned to face the woman on the floor.  
“Miss? I’m Sam. This is Lulu. We’re going to get you out of here, ok?”.  
I stepped over to help Sam with the victim; when I looked into her eyes; and recognized her grace.  
“Sam! Angel…”, I croaked. Sam quickly got on his feet, and went to hold his arm in front of me, to keep me back.  
“Who are you?”, he growled. I pushed down his arm, and crouched in front of the angel.  
“She’s no danger… She’s too weak”, I said._

_The angel sent me a cold glare.  
“The witness…”, she snarled. “Of course”.  
“Why are you here?”, I asked.  
She smirked.  
“To find _you _”, she said. “But my vessel… it’s taken too much damage. I’ll have to find another”.  
She opened her mouth, and light came streaming out of her. The woman she’d lived inside slumped over on the floor, dead.  
“Crap”, I muttered._

_Suddenly we heard sirens outside the building.  
“Let’s go!”, Sam grunted; and helped me through a window – lifting himself through it after I’d landed on the ground outside.  
“Beers!”, I smiled, as we ran for the car, we’d parked half a mile away.  
“Yeah, yeah. I know”, Sam chuckled._

\---

I sighed deeply.  
“Yes. Like her”, I muttered. “I want to get rid of it. And I know you extracted Gadreel’s leftover grace from yourself, with some sort of syringe. I found the notes”.  
Sam frowned.  
“Lulu, that was different. I was a vessel. You’re more like a…”.  
“Keeper”, I said. “That’s apparently the more correct translation”.

Sam ran a hand down his face.  
“We should let Dean in on this one. It’s not a good secret to keep”, he muttered.  
“No, Sam… He’s not… himself”. Sam searched my eyes.  
“What happened?”, he whispered.  
I shook my head.  
“I don’t want to get in to it”, I said. “It’s fine”.  
My friends face darkened.  
“He hurt you… didn’t he”. It was more a statement than a question.  
“Dean didn’t hurt me. Something else did. He’s not himself”, I croaked. “Please, just… leave it. Ok?”.  
Sam shook his head.  
“I can’t do that, Lulu. You know I can’t”, he snarled.

He stood up, and walked towards the door. I ran towards him, and grabbed his arm.  
“Sam, stop!”, I demanded. “We’ll figure out a way to fix your brother”.  
Sam looked at me with enraged eyes.  
“He hurt you! Hurt someone I love like family… I can’t let him get away with that”.  
“And what are you going to do? Kill him?”, I asked. “Hasn’t there been enough death…? Sam, he didn’t hurt me physically. Not in any way I didn’t enjoy”.  
Sam winced.  
“Didn’t need to know that”, he sighed; trying to calm himself down.

I furrowed my brows, and concentrated hard on finding the right words.  
“Dean is different. You knew that before I did. If he finds out that Cass chose me… he’ll kill him. Or at least try to”, I said. “He needs help. But right now I need to figure out how to get rid of this thing that’s living inside me – maybe even give it back to Cass… Will you help me?”.  
Sam seemed to think over my words.  
“We could ask Cass…”.  
“I don’t know if we can”, I sighed. “Metatron said… He said that Castiel would do anything to regain his grace. Even send someone to kill me”.  
Sam frowned.  
“You know Cass would never do that. He loves you, Lulu”.  
I scratched my head.  
“Yeah I know… But, the thing that hurt me the other night… it wasn’t a shifter”. Sam narrowed his eyes at me. “It was two angels, fighting over me. One wanted to give me to Metatron, the other wanted to kill me, to give Cass his grace back… Maybe if you can help me extract it, he can have it back without hurting me… too much”.

Sam raised his brows, and put his hands on my shoulders.  
“Cass was the one who extracted Gadreel’s grace from me. He was the one who found the notes in the first place”.  
My jaw dropped.  
“So… Afriel – that angel who wanted to kill me – was lying?”, I breathed.  
“It looks like it… Even if Cass _was_ planning on getting his grace back from you, he knows he can do it without killing you”, Sam nodded.  
“What the hell is going on?”, I muttered.

“I was just about to ask that myself”, Dean said from the doorway. He’d walked in just as I spoke the words, and was now looking at me and Sam with hard eyes.  
Sam let his hands drop from my shoulders.  
“Dean”, I croaked.  
“You going for another round with Sammy now?”, Dean grunted. “Thought you had enough last night”.  
Sam drew his lips back in a sneer.  
“Dude…”, he hissed. “That’s not what’s going on here, and you know it!”.  
Dean lifted his brows.  
“Do I…? Whatever. We have work to do”. He turned around, and walked down the hallway. Sam followed him close behind.  
“Dean!”, he yelled.  
“Work, Sam. It’s what we do”.

I picked up my bag, and followed the guys into the library. Dean had the blade laying out on the table, and went to sit by it. Sam leant against a chair, and looked intently at him.  
“Dean, you’re not seeing things straight”.  
Dean shook his head.  
“Sammy, it’s fine”, Dean half smiled. “No reason to let a girl come between us. Right, brother?”.

“I’m gonna go”, I muttered, and headed for the stairs.  
“Lulu!”, Sam called after me.  
“Let her go. She doesn’t belong here anyway”, Dean groaned. “Oh, honey? I saw the Gremlin. You busted it up pretty bad”. He threw a set of keys in my direction. They landed in the floor in front of me. “There’s a Thunderbird in the garage. Don’t mess it up too bad on your way out. And no need to bring it back, either”. _Or come back yourself_ , he might as well have added.  
I picked up the keys, and walked towards the garage, without saying goodbye.  
I heard Sam yell at Dean behind me; but simply hurried away – trying desperately to stifle my tears.

 _That’s not Dean. It can’t be_ , I kept trying to convince myself, as I drove out of the garage. _It’s not him_.

\---

The Thunderbird got me as far as 60 miles north of Lebanon – to Hastings – before I had to pull over and let my tears flow. I’d held them in so far – wanting to get as far away as possible.  
I put my head between my knees, and tried to avoid hyperventilating.

“Hello. Lulu”, Castiel said, from outside my open window.  
I almost tripped, getting out of the door; and throwing myself into the arms of my friend.  
“Cass…”, I rasped into the collar of his trench coat.  
He put his arms around me, and held me close for a moment; before pulling back to look me in the eyes.  
“It is good to see you”, he smiled. “I want you to know I heard you… but I could not come. I would have been no match for Metatron; and the war would have ended even before it begun, if he got to me”. He let his thumb stroke my temple. “I can see you are in pain… I can feel it”.  
“Your grace”, I croaked. He nodded softly.  
“It is still connected to me in some manner… When I am close to you, I can sense it”, he said. “It is healing your wound, and your… arm?”, he tried.  
I nodded.

Looking into his eyes, I saw the angel there, but it was different… not Cass’ own grace.  
“You’re an angel again. But it’s not your own grace”.  
He looked down.  
“No… Unfortunately, I am surviving on another angel’s grace”.  
“I want you to have it back”, I exclaimed. “I don’t want to be the witness, or the keeper; or anything else… Please take it!”.  
Castiel sighed.  
“Without the things I need from the Men of Letters bunker, there is no way for me to extract it safely. At least none that I know of”.  
I shook my head.  
“I can’t go back… Dean doesn’t want me there… And that blade”. I felt bile rise in my throat.

I leant back against the car; and Cass put his arm around my shoulder.  
“My grace is recognizing the vileness of the mark, and especially the blade – the weapon that was used in the first murder”, he explained. “Because you are a human, you feel very strongly, what I would feel as being a minor annoyance”.  
I met his eyes.  
“You chose me… But I’m not strong enough for it”.  
He shrugged slightly.  
“Like I said, back when I was human. It is supposed to be working _for_ you; and it is”, he smiled. “It is healing you, and helping you recognize not only angels, but also true evil when you come across it”.  
“The blade”, I muttered.  
“Yes”, Castiel said. “I understand why it is hard for you to be near Dean now. It is hard for me as well. It is why I’m focusing on my work with my army, and not…”.  
“With your family… They’re your family… Those two idiots”, I chuckled.  
Cass smiled broadly.  
“Yes. Those to… idiots are my family”. He took my hand and squeezed it. “And so are you. Especially now… That part of me that lives in you now, whether I ever get it back or not – it makes us family”.

I let out a deep breath.  
“Ok… I’ll keep it safe as long as I can. When the time is right – and when it won’t kill me – I’m giving it back”.  
“Deal”, Cass smiled. “I must get back to my brothers and sisters”.  
He went to walk away.  
“Wait, Cass!”, I called out. “Why did you come to see me, now?”.  
“My friend was in pain. She needed to see a friendly face”. He pointed at his own face, and smiled. “And you needed to understand why being near that blade was bothering you. It’s the angel inside you telling you that it’s evil”.  
“Yeah, but what am I supposed to do about that?”, I asked. “I can’t take it away from Dean, I can’t even touch it without wanting to tear off my own skin”.

Cass looked ponderingly at the ground.  
“Dean needs… a compass. The direction he’s heading in… Whatever he choses to do, he’s going to need someone to bring him back on the right path when it’s over”.  
“He has Sam”, I muttered. “He doesn’t want me there”.  
“He does… He just doesn’t know it in his current state… He is also very fond of your breasts”.  
I let out a deep sigh.  
“Cass… You’re…”. I couldn’t finish, so simply smiled at him.  
He gave me a final smile and a wave, and then was gone.

\---

I sent Sam a text.  
\- _Saw Cass. That blade is evil, and I can’t be around it. But if you need me to help your brother when this is done, I’ll be there. As your friend, and if he will have me, his._

I stopped at a Gas-N-Sip, to gas up the car. My right hand was shaking from the pain lingering in my elbow, as I tried to do so; when someone took the nozzle from me. I looked up, and met the eyes of a man I’d seen before – but this time I recognized not just him, but the angel inside.  
“You… get away form me!”, I hissed at Gadreel, inside the bartender I’d met those months before.  
“I will help you”, he muttered.  
I stumbled backwards.  
“No. Just leave”, I said. “I can’t do this anymore. No more angels, no more witnessing. I’m done… please”.

Gadreel stepped forward, and put his hands on my shoulders to keep me standing.  
“I will not hurt you”, he said softly.  
“You hurt me before… Killed Kevin!”, I croaked. I went to pull my angel blade in my jacket, when I remembered I’d left it in the car. Gadreel’s eyes hit the ground.  
“Yes. I did those things. It is not something I am proud of”, he muttered. “But it is not why I am here now”.  
“Then why?”, I sighed.  
Gadreel clenched his jaw.  
“I am here to take you to Metatron”, he whispered. “He sent me, so you would come willingly”.  
“Why would I do that?”.  
Gadreel smiled.  
“Because I convinced him we are friends. That we became friends while I was in Sam”.  
“I thought angels didn’t lie”. I remembered Afriel, who’d lied to me about needing to kill me to take Castiel’s grace back. “Right. You all lie. You even lied about who you yourself was, when you crawled up my friend’s ass!”.  
“Yes, that was unfortunate”, Gadreel admitted.

I shrugged him off – backed away – and used the car-keys to begin cutting into my hand, so I could repel the angel.  
“Do not hurt yourself. There is no reason to”, Gadreel tried. He stepped closer again. “You must follow me to Metatron, before more angels have to die”.  
“What’s that supposed to mean? And what is it with men telling me what I _have_ to do?”, I snarled.  
Gadreel put a hand on my shoulder, and suddenly, I was sitting in the passenger front seat of the Thunderbird; with Gadreel at the wheel.  
I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Let me go”, I pleaded. Gadreel put his hands on the steering-wheel, and I saw the gas-meter raise to full.  
“I cannot. I am sorry”, he muttered, and drove out of the lot; and down the road. “If you try to repel me now – or kill me with that blade you have hidden under the seat – this vehicle will crash with you inside it. And I do not think that even the grace Castiel has granted you, can heal you from the amount of broken bones that would mean”.  
“Why didn’t you just… teleport me to Metatron, or whatever it is you guys do?”, I asked with bated breath.  
“Because I believe I owe you an explanation for why I’m bringing you to him”, Gadreel said. “I wanted some time with you… sister”.

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.  
“Fine. Talk. It’s not like I can stop The Wall Of God… or do you prefer The Silent Sentinel? I know I’d prefer it if you were silent, and let me out of this damn car!”. I yelled the last words.  
“You have read of me”, Gadreel said. “It is true, I was there; in Eden. But that is not for now”. He made a turn onto the highway, and continued. “Metatron is building an army for the final battle; the one where all the righteous angels will be granted access to Heaven”.  
“And you consider yourselves one of those?”, I sneered. “Righteous?”.  
“I will be, once this is over. I am earning my place next to the new God”.  
“Metatron?”, I muttered. Gadreel nodded.

I pulled myself closer to the door, to sit as far away from the angel as possible.  
“And why does he need me?”, I asked.  
“Castiel is leading the opposition. With the part of his grace you have within you, Metatron can finally convince the angels who have not chosen a side, to join him. Not only is Castiel living with grace he has stolen from others, he does not even have any of his own left inside him. _You_ have what remains of that”. Gadreel’s eyes were hard.  
“Afriel said I stole Cass’ grace”, I said. “Everyone on your side will think the same. I’ll be no different that he is, to any of them – let alone those you want to follow you”.  
“We will make them see. You and I will stand on either side of Metatron as he rises to the throne”.  
My jaw dropped.  
“Whoa! Hey, no… I’m not standing next to any throne. No way”, I exclaimed. “Just… pull over, and let me go. You angels need a _yes_ for stuff like this, right? And this a _no_. No means no!”.

Gadreel smiled softly.  
“The grace is already within you. Metatron will make it grow. Make you one of us”. He looked out the corner of his eye at me. “I’ve explained it all now, so you will be prepared. Now sleep”. He put two fingers to my forehead, and everything went black.

\---

I woke seated in a recliner in an old-fashioned office.  
I saw Metatron seated in and old fashioned leather chair, speaking to a computer.  
“… his followers have all come over to my team, by the way…”, he said.  
“ _I didn’t send anyone to kill you_ ”, I heard Cass’ voice reply.  
“Oh, stop lying, Castiel!”, Metatron frowned.

I tried to get up from the chair, but some invisible force was holding me down.  
“ _Your deception led to the Fall!_ ”, Castiel said.  
Metatron leant towards the screen.  
“I did what I had to do. I have always done what I had to do”, he exclaimed. “For God, and for the angels”.  
“ _Sure. You’re Mother Teresa with neck beard_ ”. I couldn’t help but smile a little, when I heard Dean’s voice taunting my captor.  
“What I did was necessary to make us a family again!”.  
“ _Yeah, except for the angels you had Gadreel kill_ ”, Sam’s voice retorted.

Metatron looked at the screen intently.  
“One time only, I’m offering amnesty. Every angel, no matter what their sin, may join me, and return to Heaven”, he said. “I will be their God, and they can be my heavenly host. You’ve seen earth. You’ve had a taste of free will. Do you like it? The way you’ve flocked off to follow Castiel, tells me you _need_ to follow someone. But Cass, he is not what you think he is”. My breath hitched. This was Metatron’s plan. To make Castiel out as the villain. “He sends angels of to die! Have you told them about your stolen grace, Castiel…? Castiel is playing you, because all he cares about is himself, and the Hardy Boys there. You’ve got a choice to make. Make the right one”.

Metatron pressed a button on the computer, and ended the call. He looked over at me.  
“Quite convincing, wasn’t I?”, he smiled. “Had the entire opposition in the palm of my hand".  
“You were feeding them crap!”. I jostled to get free from the chair.  
“Your _friend_ , Cass, is a thief, and a murderer”.  
“You’re lying”, I growled. “Cass would never… that’s not him!”.  
“Well, they think so. At least they do now…”, Metatron grinned. “Oh, you can stand up now”.

The force holding me down disappeared, and I rose from the chair, sprinting for the door.  
“It’s locked. The key is celestial; and you’re not quite celestial… yet”.  
“I’m not going to be part of your sick plan!”, I snarled. “And you lied to them. Castiel didn’t kill anyone!”.  
“Well, it’s either, you join, or you die”, Metatron shrugged. “I read your mind while you were out. That was… quite an encounter you and the shorter brother had last night… Well actually two nights ago. You’ve been out for a while”.

I pointed at him.  
“You, stay out of my head!”, I growled.  
Metatron raised his hands, trying for a calming manner.  
“Oh, you have nothing to be ashamed of when it come to me. I read 50 Shades… all three of them, in fact. Terrible writing – but enticing none the less”, the angel grinned. “Now listen here, my cherub…”.  
“What?”, I sputtered.  
“Oh, cherub?”, Metatron smiled. “Yes, that’s what I’m planning on making you”.  
“You’re gonna turn me into a fat baby?”, I sneered.  
“No, cherubs are…”, he began.  
“I know what cherubs are. I’m being sarcastic”, I sighed.

Metatron laughed.  
“You’re funny. I see why Dean likes you… or, did – before that whole mark thing”. He looked towards my chest. “Well that and…”.  
“Yeah, ok, I got it!”, I snarled. Metatron’s eyes didn’t raise. “Eyes up here, creep!”, I growled.  
“I’m just enjoying the view of that… lovely dress. Picked it out myself”.  
It was only then I realized I was wearing a pink, lacy dress.  
“What’s this?”, I breathed.  
“Pretty in Pink… I love that movie”, Metatron said, and walked towards me. “It’s the original, you know…”.  
“You dressed me up in Molly Ringwald’s dress?”, I frowned. I looked down at my feet. “Could you at least have given me shoes? This is a running theme with you angels…”. I shrugged, trying to get comfortable in the laces; when I realized something else. “And where the hell is my bra?”  
“Gadreel dressed you. Don’t worry; he had his eyes closed the whole time. It took him at least an hour. It was a joy to watch”, Metatron chuckled.

The angel in question came into the room.  
“Metatron, I need to speak to you”, he said with a sour expression.  
The short angel rolled his eyes.  
“Everyone always wants to speak to me. It’s not easy being the new God, you know”. He sighed. “Give me a few moments. I need to get your sister settled in”.  
He walked towards me, and put a hand on my shoulder; and suddenly I was in a ghastly decked out bedroom; with a canopy bed, and heavy curtains on the walls.

Metatron clapped his hands together.  
“Now! I trust Gadreel has filled you in on why I want you here. I’m going to let you think it over a while longer. But not too long. I’m going to want the _right_ answer, soon”. A phone rang in his pocket. “I need to take this…”. He picked up the call. “Nanael! Good to hear from you, finally. Have you reconsidered?”. He snapped his fingers, and was gone.

I searched the walls for any exit. There were no windows behind the curtains, and the only door that hadn’t been bricked up, was one that lead to a small bathroom.  
There was a small air vent on the floor, letting in stale air. I heard voices – Metatron’s and Gadreel’s – but couldn’t make out the words.  
Gadreel sounded angry; and suddenly, I heard a door slam.

When I got up to stand, Gadreel was standing in front of me.  
“Metatron lied”, he said. “About everything. He must be stopped!”.  
“Duh”, I sighed. “Took you long enough to figure it out. I thought you were supposed to be one of the smart ones… Though you did put your money on Lucifer back in the beginning”.  
Gadreel clenched his jaw.  
“I’m going to join Castiel. It is the righteous thing to do”.  
“His army will kill you!”, I breathed.  
“His army has left him. He is with the Winchesters, at their… bat-cave. I will take you away from here, if you want me to”.  
Suddenly, the angel seemed less like an enemy.  
“You will?”, I croaked.  
“Yes”, Gadreel proclaimed. “I will bring you back to your lover”.  
I shook my head.  
“No… No, I can’t go back there”, I whispered.

Gadreel stepped forwards, and put his hand on my shoulder.  
“Is it because of the unsatisfying intercourse you had with him”.  
I pushed him away with an angry grimace spreading across my face.  
“It wasn’t… You angels are dicks!”, I snarled.  
Gadreel looked confused.  
“We are not penises… We are the children of God”.  
I sighed.  
“I can’t go back, because he doesn’t want me there. And I can’t be around him as long as he has that mark; or that knife. It does something to him. Something bad”.  
“What mark?”, Gadreel asked.  
“You don’t know about…?”, I began, when Gadreel held up a hand, as if to listen.  
“Hush”, he demanded. “If you want to come, we must go, _now_. I have brought you shoes”.

Moments later, I was standing next to the Thunderbird, wearing Andie Walsh’s prom dress, and combat boots. The car was parked just outside a playground; where a woman and what seemed to be her daughter were sitting. The child looked as if she was telling of her mother; and the woman nodded – her eyes meeting the ground.  
The little girl looked up, and met my eyes; and I recognized her as angel. I jumped into the car; and hauled ass out of there as fast as I could.

All of my things where in the extended storage space behind the backrest - it seemed the Men of Letters had realized extra storage in a sports car, would probably be needed for transportation of paranormal paraphernalia - and I found my phone in the glove compartment. Gadreel was joining Castiel and the brothers; he wanted to help – but I knew there was a good chance Dean would kill him before he had a chance to explain himself.  
I dialed up Sam.  
“ _This is Samuel Winchester. I’m busy either brushing my luscious hair, or being jealous of my brother’s good looks_ ”, Dean’s voice said. Sam’s voice appeared in the background. “ _Dean, what are you doing with my phone…? Dude…! Beep_ ”.  
“Sam, you have company coming”, I said. “Gadreel. Don’t kill him. He just saved my ass. I think he’s one of the good guys… Call me!”.

I’d been an idiot. I should have gone with Gadreel, to make sure the brothers and Cass wouldn’t hurt him. He could get them access to Metatron, maybe even help them kill him. And the little jerk had to die.  
I prayed to Castiel; I prayed to Gadreel; but none of them appeared.  
I was hours from Lebanon, so I put the metal to the floor; and hoped against hope I wouldn’t get pulled over.

After much to and fro, I finally relented and called up Dean. His voicemail was different than it had been the last time I heard it.  
“ _Sam, I’m not using this phone anymore. Give up… Lou… I’m done driving myself crazy_ ”.  
The phone dropped from my hand, and to the floor of the car. Then I screamed out my heartbreak.

\---

I was outside the bunker a few hours later; not bothering with driving back into the garage. The Impala was parked outside as well.  
The first thing I did when exiting the Thundebird, was to dry heave. I hadn’t eaten in days, and had nothing to throw up. I was dizzy, and my body was in pain.

I stumbled down the stairs.  
“Gadreel is coming to help!”, I cried out. “He’s not…”. I halted when I saw Sam, Castiel and Gadreel standing in the library. “You’re already here”.  
I saw blood on the floor next to the map-table.  
“Where’s… Is he ok?”, I croaked. No matter how I aware I was of the fact that Dean was done with me, the thought of him dead was enough to make me feel like I’d been stabbed in the heart. I almost toppled over.  
Sam sprang over to me; helping me stand.  
“He’s alive… He left with Crowley”, he said. “We’re looking for him”.  
I let out a breath – half relieved, half in anguish.  
“What’s he thinking? Crowley?”.  
“He’s not”, Sam growled.

Castiel walked towards us, and put his arm around my waist. My heart instantly began sending warmth through my system.  
“Where have you been?”, Sam asked, as I sat down in a chair in the library.  
“She’s been in Heaven”, Gadreel said. I gulped.  
“That was… Heaven?”, I croaked. He nodded sadly.  
“It is not the same as it was those many years ago”.  
Sam looked at him confusedly.  
“Why did you bring her upstairs?”.  
“He didn’t _bring_ me – he kidnapped me!”.

“I brought her there for Metatron”, Gadreel said, ignoring my words. He looked at Castiel. “He wanted your grace”.  
“To extract it?”, Sam asked.  
“He wanted to make her an angel”, Castiel grumbled. “Did he not?”. Gadreel nodded.  
“A cherub”, I breathed. I gestured towards the taller angel. “He and I were supposed to stand next to that winged bag of dicks as he sat on the throne”.  
Gadreel frowned.  
“Brother, you must explain to the woman, that we are not genitals. She’s very confused”.  
Castiel shook his head.  
“It’s a human expression for someone they dislike. You’ll come to learn soon enough”.

I swallowed hard.  
“We need to find him”, I croaked. “What can I do?”.  
“You are not well”, Castiel said. “I can sense my grace working to heal you; and it’s not easy work right now”.  
“I’m just tired”, I muttered. “Haven’t eaten in days”.  
“I’ll get you food”, Cass said.

Sam pulled out his computer.  
“We need to look for any angelic activity going on”, he declared. “Dean and Crowley will be doing the same, so we need to be one step ahead”.  
“Charlie’s computer is in the Thunderbird”, I said. “Two laptops are better than one”.  
Gadreel disappeared and reappeared almost instantly with my bag, phone and computer.  
“I have it here for you. May I heal you?”.  
“No… just give it here. And go stand in the corner. I’m still freaking out over the fact that you dressed me”, I muttered.  
Sam raised a brow at me.  
“Are you wearing Molly Ringwald’s dress?”.  
“It’s the original”, Gadreel said from the corner of the library. I simply shook my head, and began going through Charlie’s hacked search engines for any clue as to where Dean might have gone.

Castiel returned with a plate full of jalapeño poppers, and a small bowl of ranch. He smiled softly, as he set it down in front of me.  
“Brother, I believe it is time for us to leave”, Gadreel said. Castiel nodded.  
“Where are you going?”, I asked.  
“Castiel thinks we can weaken Metatron, if we destroy the tablets he has. They’re giving him extra, almost godlike powers”, Sam said.  
“Huh”, I scoffed. “So, the whole thing with him being able to find me because he could read the sigils on my bones; that was just crap?”.  
Gadreel nodded.  
“Yes, that was… fecal matter”, he muttered. “He did not want you to know of the tablets, because you might let Castiel and his army know. It is how I found you, when I came to fetch you. He told me where you were”.  
“And the sigil I used to weaken him by that graveyard, the way he reacted”.  
“Also fecal matter. He wanted it to seem as if you were free to go, so he could proclaim that you’d joined him willingly, when he sent me after you, to make you my sister”.  
“Why?”, Sam asked.  
“He is writing a story; one that makes him out to be the hero”.

I sighed.  
“Gadreel… when I met your vessel before; was that your leftover grace I recognized in him?”, I asked. The angel nodded. “He seemed like a nice guy. Don’t break him to much”. Gadreel gave me a crooked smile, and he and Castiel went to leave the bunker. “Oh! And, if you come across my bra; bring it back, ok?”.  
“What is a _bra_?”, Gadreel muttered. Castiel simply patted his shoulder, and led him out the door.

Once Sam and I were alone, we both frantically searched every resource we had to track Dean.  
“So what happens when we find him?”, I asked. “We won’t be able to stop him…”.  
Sam shook his head.  
“We… _I_ won’t. Once Metatron is weakened, Dean’s going to kill him with the blade”.  
“He’s what? You said yourself, every time he uses that thing, he gets worse”, I roared. “That’s going to make him even more of a… He’s a ticking bomb, Sam!”.  
“I know, Lulu…! I know”, Sam exclaimed. “But Metatron is planning to make humanity his slaves… It’s a risk I hate to take. But we have to”.  
“Sam… What happens then? Who will he be when he’s done it?”.  
“I don’t know… But… You can’t be there when he does”, my friend said quietly. “It’s not safe… for any of you”.  
I clenched my jaw in frustration.  
“He said almost the exact same words to me about you, just a few months ago…”.  
Sam nodded.  
“I know… I remember what Gadreel did to you, when he was inside me. What he did to Kevin”. He sighed. “Look, we’ll find him. I’ll go help him finish this; then I’ll try to bring him back. He’s going to need us to get back to normal”. He looked deep into my eyes. “ _Both_ of us”.

I took a deep breath, and continued my search, stumbling across a strange viral video.  
“Sam, check this out…”. I turned my computer for him to see. A woman was run down by a car; when suddenly a seemingly homeless man brought her back to life. When he looked at the camera, it was Metatron.  
“What’s her name?”, Sam said. “The woman!”.  
I tracked down the address of the woman in the video; and texted it to his phone.  
Sam ran for the stairs.  
“Get ready for anything. Anything!”, he called back to me.  
“I will. Come back whole!”.

\---

I spent the next hours crushing up roofies, mixing them with whiskey and drizzling them over pie from the kitchen. If Dean was coming back as a fragile nuclear warhead; at least we could try to make him a tranquil one.  
I grabbed every weapon within reach, and locked them up in my room; hiding the key under a cauliflower head in the fridge – the one place I knew Dean would never look.

I went into the dungeon, to get it ready for potential future inhabitants. The thought of leaving Dean in there made me sick; and when I saw that someone had already been sick in the corner, I nearly cried.  
They’d kept Dean in here already; and he had been unwell.  
Remainders of a demon summoning ritual was lain on the floor; and I figured this was how Dean had contacted Crowley.  
If I ever saw the balding wanker again, I was going to stab him in the heart with my blade.

I went outside, to finally park the Thunderbird in the garage. Even if Dean wanted me far away when all this was over, I knew that I needed to stay and take care of him until he was himself again. Then – if he wanted me gone – I’d go.

I finally shed the godawful dress, and decided for a quick shower. I dressed in more comfortable garb. Black workout leggings, for easy movements out of reach of my possibly psychopathic ex – Dean _was_ my ex, I reminded myself – and a tank with a sweatshirt over it. I went to redress the wound on my ribs, but saw that it was almost healed up already.  
With tweezers, I began pulling out the stitches; when a text came in from Sam.  
\- _Found him. On our way to find the scribe. Hide the matches for when we come back._

 _Crap, I forgot about the matches_ , I thought – and gathered every lighter and matchbook I could find; locking them inside my room with the guns. The keys went back under the cauliflower head.

The hours dragged without any more word from Sam. I was finally giving in to exhaustion; when I heard the Impala drive into the garage.  
Wielding my blade – the only weapon I wouldn’t lock up – I made towards the sound of the car.  
Sam met me in the door; his face the picture of pain.

A jolt of intense pain went through my heart.  
“Don’t… no…”, I whimpered. Sam was sobbing. Behind him, I saw the door to the backseat of Dean’s car open; with his limp body splayed over the seat.  
I sprang for the car, and began to crawl into the backseat. I cradled Dean’s head in my arms.  
“Wake up, Dean”, I cried; my tears hitting his face, running over his blue lips. “Don’t leave me… baby, come back… Don’t…”.  
Sam pulled at my arm, to get me out of the car.  
“He’s gone, Lulu… he killed him”, he sobbed.  
“No…”.  
Sam got me out of the car; and wrapped his arms around me.  
“I couldn’t stop him. He wouldn’t let me… I should have…”.  
I held my friend – my brother – close; crying into his chest. Neither of us could comfort the other.

“I want to bring him to his room”, Sam breathed, and let go of me.  
I went to the opposite side of the car, and helped Sam lift the limp corpse of the man I loved, out of the car, that he had loved – and where we had loved, together.  
Sam carried Dean’s torso, and I lifted his legs; as we made our way down to room 11. I stood in the doorway as Sam laid his brother on his bed – our bed.

I walked over and took Sam’s hand; our fingers intertwining.  
“I can’t let him go… Not like this. He didn’t even get to finish…”, Sam croaked. I let go of his hand, and wrapped my arm around his torso. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m going to fix this. I’m not giving up”.  
He let go of me, and exited the room.  
“Sam!”, I called after him. He didn’t turn around.

I walked over to the bed, and crawled onto the mattress. I wrapped my arm over Dean’s chest, and stroked his cold, bruised cheek.  
He didn’t even look at peace – he just looked sad.  
For the longest time, I just lay there; letting my tears leave wet spots on his t-shirt.  
Scooting up to put my mouth to his ear; I whispered all the words I needed to say. Words he’d never hear me say again.  
“You stupid, stupid man”, I breathed. “You’re a first-class idiot… You’re stubborn, hot headed and you always order extra onion on your burgers, even though you k _now_ it makes your farts smell so bad, no one can be in a room with you. You make inappropriate jokes at the worst times. You’ve probably blown the speakers in your car more times than anyone can count; and you still look at me like I kicked a puppy, whenever I don’t wipe my feet before getting in”. I sighed deeply. “How are we… how am _I_ going to be able to go on without you? I love you, Dean. I’ve loved you since the first time you kissed me. Maybe even before that… When you danced with me to that stupid song”. Then I began singing softly.

_“Lying in your arms, so close together. Didn't know just what I had. Now I toss and turn, 'cause I'm without you. How I'm missing you so bad. I lie awake, I drive myself crazy, thinking of you. Made a mistake, when I let you go, baby. I drive myself crazy, wanting you the way that I do…”._

I got up to lean on my elbow, and stroked Dean’s cheek one final time, before kissing his soft, cold lips.  
Then I got up from the bed, and walked out of the room. I stopped in the doorway; and looked back at him.  
“Sleep tight, Dean Winchester”, I whispered.

I went back into the garage, and closed the doors to the back seat, then got in behind the wheel, and searched the glove compartment for the tape I wanted. Popping it into the radio, I turned the key to let it play.  
“ _Spiderman, Spiderman. Friendly neighborhood, Spiderman. Wealth and fame, he ignores. Action is his reward. Look out, here comes the Spiderman…_ ”.  
I leant back against the backrest, and closed my eyes.

“Lulu!”. I woke suddenly from Sam’s voice. “Where are you?”.  
The tape was long since over, and I rubbed my eyes; stepping out of the car.  
“Garage”, I croaked as loudly as I could.

Sam came running through the door to the large room.  
“He’s gone!”.  
“What? Who’s gone?”, I asked confusedly.  
“Dean! He’s gone…”. Sam’s eyes were wide in mixed terror and what I might have mistaken for happiness.  
I ran towards the tall man, and grabbed his collar.  
“What did you do, Sammy?”, I growled.  
Sam shook his head.  
“I didn’t do anything… I tried, but Crowley didn’t come”, he panted. “He’s just gone…”.

I pushed past Sam, and ran towards Dean’s room. His bed was empty, and all that was left behind, was a note.  
\- _Sammy let me go_  
“He wrote this”, I breathed. “He’s alive. But…?”.  
“I don’t know”, Sam said, knowing what I was about to ask. “Someone must have taken him”.  
“He wrote this… I know his handwriting”, I exclaimed. “He just got up and walked away… Without letting us know”.  
I sat down on the bed, and ran my hand through my hair. I put the note back on the pillow.  
“We need to find him. Where’s Cass?”.  
“I haven’t heard from him”, Sam sighed. “I’ll try again”.  
“You call his phone; I’ll pray”, I said.

\---

3 weeks later.

_We are outside Whitewood Bend, North Carolina; having tracked down one of Crowley’s minions._

_“Cass, hold him down!”, I yell, as Sam and I prepare the devil’s trap. We didn’t have time to prepare, before the demon arrived. He is a big one, with a ridiculous blue mohawk; and dressed in a stupid t-shirt that reads SURF NAKED.  
“I don’t know where he is!”, the demon snarls; struggling to get away from Cass; who has his knee against his neck. “He didn’t tell us anything…”.  
“You’re lying!”, Sam roars._

_I finish the last sigil in the trap.  
“It’s done. Bring him over here”, I call out.  
Castiel gets on his feet, and drags the demon with him. He is out of breath, weakening from his grace waning. He holds on to the demon’s arm as tightly as he can; when suddenly it elbows him in the face, and springs towards me.  
Sam jumps in between us; and the demon knocks him to the ground; making him land hard on his arm, and yelp out in pain._

_Wielding my blade, I slash at the demon; making him stumble backwards. I lift my leg, and kick him in the face; making his mohawk sway in the wind. While he tries to recover, I swing myself onto his back; straddling him from behind – and holding my blade to his neck.  
“Walk into the circle, now!”, I snarl.  
“You know, if you were on my front in stead of my back; we could make this a party… I heard the stories of you and Dean”, the demon chuckles. “You like that position”.  
I cut into his neck.  
“No, Lulu. We need him!”, Sam growls. “Walk into the circle. She’ll kill you!”.  
Piggybacking the demon, I lead him into the devil’s trap; and get off him – backing away with my blade raised._

_Sam holds his hand to his elbow.  
“You good?”, I muttered.  
“Dislocated…”, he groans.  
I sighed.  
“On your knees…”. Sam gets down in front of me and leans back. I probe Sam’s elbow to figure out which way to pull, and set my foot to his chest. I grab his arm – and as he bites down on his jacket sleeve – I yank it towards as hard as I can; popping his elbow back into place.  
“Thanks…”, Sam croak.  
“Welcome”, I mutter._

_I walk towards the demon again.  
“Talk”, I hiss.  
The demon shakes his head.  
“I told you. I don’t know anything. The king isn’t letting anyone know what’s going on”.  
I tilt my head, and smile menacingly. I am tired, and done playing games.  
“You sure know something about my sex-life… You must have seen him”.  
“Lulu…”, Castiel breathes.  
“Shut up, Cass!”, I yell.  
The demon chuckles.  
“Trouble in the ranks? Which one of you is the leader here, anyway? The broken angel; the hunter with the handicapped shoulder – or the girl who’ll take her top of, if you play her the right song…? What was it again… Oh yeah; It’s a long way to the top…?”. He snickers at me; and I step forwards – kicking him in the balls. He fallsl to the ground, cupping his groin. “Bitch!”._

_Sam walks over to me, grabbing my arm with his good hand.  
“Lulu, you need to leave…”, he grunted. “Your head is in the wrong place”.  
“I’m not going anywhere, until this dick tells me where Dean is!”._

_The demon chuckles quietly, then begin quietly singing.  
“I lie awake… I drive myself…”.  
I tear myself from Sam’s grasp; and run towards the demon again. This time he is ready for me, and before I can stab him, he grabs my ankle; making me fall to the ground. He puts his hands around my neck, and straddles me.  
“Lulu, no!”, Sam yelled.  
“Stay back, or I’ll snap her neck!”, the demon growls. Sam and Cass stay back, ready to jump forward if needed. The demon leans down, and look deep into my eyes. “Beulah, North Dakota. Cheapest motel, room 13. Come alone – and don’t tell them… He’ll leave before you get there, if they find out”. My eyes widen. “Now, make it look real; but leave the nads alone…”.  
My breath hitched; and I lift my arm.  
“I’ll make it look real, alright”, I snarl.  
The demon looks startled.  
“No, not like that!”, he cries out; just before I stab him through the heart._

_I push the limp body off me, and get on my feet.  
“We needed him”, Sam growls.  
“He didn’t know anything”, I croak. “Take care of the body. I have to go”. I stumble towards the Thunderbird.  
“Lulu! Goddammit, what did he say?”, Sam cries out.  
I turn around, clenching my jaw.  
“He just… he finished the song”, I say, and continue towards my car. “Now, that’s what I’m going to do as well”, I mutter to myself._

_\---_


End file.
